


A Change in Dynamics

by debirlfan



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: M/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/pseuds/debirlfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denny and Alan work out the parameters of their marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change in Dynamics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [灵活关系 A Change in Dynamics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022884) by [racifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/racifer/pseuds/racifer)



> A Yuletide treat for Nic. Hope you enjoy!  
> Alan and Denny don't belong to me, just borrowing them for awhile.

Denny Crane's house had a deck. The view certainly didn't equal that of the balcony at Crane, Poole and Schmidt, but there were other advantages. One was the huge Weber grill that had provided their dinner earlier in the evening. Another was the privacy. Too many times Alan had been forced to remind Denny that theirs was not the only skyscraper in Boston, and that sightlines from some of the others included their balcony.

 

Some things, though, stayed the same. The chairs they sat in were an example. Alan hadn't asked and didn't really want to know quite how it had been arranged, but a week after they left the firm, two shady characters in a beat up box truck had delivered the chairs. The furniture had been installed and some bills had exchanged hands, all while Denny muttered about how no Chinese ass would be sitting in his favorite seat.

 

Now, Alan sipped the last of his scotch as he gazed up at the stars. A passing cloud sent a handful of sparkling flurries drifting gently downward in the cold, still air. “Ready to go in?” he asked, glancing across to where Denny sat, puffing his cigar.

 

“Why? You cold?”

 

“No.” He was, but he wasn't about to admit it, knowing the older man would use the admission as an excuse to go off on some diatribe about how Alan's generation had been spoiled by central heating.

 

Denny cocked one eyebrow, giving him a long look. “You're doing a lot of shivering for someone who's not cold.” He reached beneath the blanket that was spread over his lap and pulled forth a small square, extending it towards Alan. “Here. Stick this under your ass.”

 

Alan reached out to take the offering, nearly dropping it in surprise at the unexpected warmth. He saw that it was a chemical heat pack. “So that's your secret,” Alan responded, tucking the pack under his own blanket. “I always thought you were just hot-blooded.”

 

Flicking cigar ash over the railing, Denny scowled at him. “And there you go again.”

 

“What?” Alan asked. Sometimes trying to follow Denny's train of thought left him standing baffled and bemused at the station.

 

“Trying to talk dirty to me.”

 

Alan started to protest that he'd done no such thing, but realized even as he opened his mouth to argue that the attempt was futile. He decided to try another tact. “Well, we are married now, after all. A little dirty talk should be allowed.”

 

That startled Denny, who had undoubtedly been expecting a different response. Alan took pity on him. “Just kidding.”

 

Denny eyed him again. He reached for the bottle of scotch, and refilled both glasses, despite the fact that his own was still almost half full. Putting the bottle down, he picked up his drink and took a long swallow from it. “Do you remember when you were having those nightmares, and walking in your sleep?”

 

Alan shuddered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Yes, quite vividly. Thank you for reminding me.”

 

If Denny heard the sarcasm, he chose to ignore it. “When you asked me to sleep with you, I told you that I was homophobic.”

 

“Your point?”

 

“You could have told me that you were straight and I had nothing to worry about. You didn't.”

 

For a man with memory problems, Denny could certainly recall the damnedest details. “I didn't think I needed to. Sally, Tara, Lorraine, Gloria -- should I go on?”

 

Denny took another swallow of the scotch. “And you still haven't said it, have you? Alan, I've spent too many hours in court with you. Evading a direct question without actually lying is an art form. You're as good at it as I am.”

 

Alan sighed. “Fine. I'm bisexual.” He wondered, given the circumstances, if Denny might claim bisexuality as grounds to annul the marriage.

 

“About time.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“It's about time you admitted it.” Denny's attention returned to his cigar.

 

Trying not to fidget, Alan waited. He knew Denny well enough to know that he'd never leave it at that. His patience was eventually rewarded. “Well, we are legally married. If the state of Massachusetts is alright with it...” Denny shook his head, as if amazed by his own words. “But there are going to be some ground rules.”

 

“Ground rules?” Alan asked, too surprised to say anything else.

 

“Ground rules.” Denny finally looked over at him. “First, there will be no public displays of affection. Denny Crane has a certain image to maintain.”

 

Alan fought back a chuckle. Undoubtedly, it wasn't a good time to remind Denny that his image had already survived a same-sex marriage. “Check.”

 

“Second,” Denny continued, “I damn well don't give blow jobs.”

 

“I wouldn't expect you to.”

 

“And third, most importantly, no portion of your anatomy is ever to be allowed inside of any portion of my anatomy.”

 

Perhaps it was too many years as a litigator, perhaps it was the Mad Cow, but Denny could certainly phrase things in most ambiguous ways. “By which you mean...?” Alan asked.

 

“Any kissing is with your tongue totally and completely in your own mouth. And my ass--”

 

Alan held up a hand, cutting him off. “Off limits. Goes without saying.” The latter wasn't a problem. In truth, Alan couldn't even begin to picture it. The tongue ban was another matter. He'd give Denny some time, but eventually there might be some negotiations on that.

 

“Damn straight. I'm not gay.”

 

Alan refrained from commenting on Denny's unintentional pun. “Of course you're not.” As long as Denny could tell himself that, and convince himself that it was true, everything would be fine. “May I ask what is allowed?” He didn't want to push Denny further than he was willing to go.

 

“What do you mean?” Denny eyed him suspiciously.

 

“Well...” Alan tried to think of something relatively innocuous. “Mutual masturbation, for example.”

 

Denny seemed to consider it for a moment, then shrugged. “Jerking off using someone else's hand. I don't see anything so gay about that. Just a matter of convenience. What else?”

 

“Frottage?”

 

Denny looked up sharply. “Dunno. What is it? Sounds gay.”

 

Alan suspected that to Denny, all foreign words sounded gay. “It's not important, Denny.” He'd explain it later.

 

Denny was silent for a long moment. Finally, he stood, gathering up the blanket and the half-empty bottle of scotch. “It's getting cold, and you've got my heating pack. Let's go in.”

 

Alan joined him as he headed inside. “Movies and popcorn?” he asked, more interested in feeling out the new dynamics between them than in the entertainment.

 

“Action adventure. Something with Stallone and a lot of explosions. And no popcorn hulls in the bed.”

 

“And a good night kiss?”

 

Denny scowled in what Alan had come to recognize as mock irritation. “If you insist. But remember, no tongue.”

 

Alan smiled. “No tongue.” Maybe this new dynamic would work out after all.


End file.
